I rarely write but feel a lot The Burden in my heart I hold Another day, another verse Of life, as low as always was My stories, all part of a plan I live and love in each of them Imagined multi-universe And every time it hits me worse I rarely speak. My stories do Sometimes I even miss the cue Behind the scenes the author's name But his and mine — are not the same I'm but a hand for real gift I solve his secrets hint by hint And then we triumph a new birth You want his stories? They're all yours